


Five Times Tony Lied to May Parker And One Time He Told The Truth

by CloudySonder



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Parent Tony Stark, Pepperony if you squint, Precious Peter Parker, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Whump, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Whump, Worried Peter Parker, a little pinch of angst, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2019-10-29 22:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17816528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudySonder/pseuds/CloudySonder
Summary: She didn't approve of it much at first, obviously.Her sunshine-filled nephew was going under the mentorship of Tony Stark, the genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist, but more importantly, a reckless, life-risking, alcoholic who seemed to be involved with a new scandal every time she looked.Of course, she didn't trust him, but even she knew not to snuff out the light in Peter's eyes.And maybe, just a little bit, she thinks that she may have been just a little bit biased. How bad could Tony really be, if he treated Peter the way he did?....In which May Parker truly just thinks that Peter has an internship with Tony, and her view of him shifts, little by little.Also in which Tony realizes that he has a family and that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.





	1. Sick

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Spider-Man Homecoming, except May still doesn't know about Peter's secret identity. (Also, sorry to disappoint, but not an identity reveal fic.)
> 
> Shoutout to my gods/goddesses/goddeths (new gender-neutral version I made up just now) madasthesea, spiderboyneedsahug, keep-a-bucket-full-of-stars, and losingmymindtonight for writing fics beyond the canon that made me cry, smile, and laugh.

When an exhausted-looking Peter hobbled into the kitchen looking like he'd rather die than go to school, May knew that she'd most likely spend the rest of the day worrying. Peter was the type to choose to deal with the flu with the sheer power of will rather than worry her, and regrettably, she remembered she'd taken a double shift today. 

Peter very gracefully collapsed on a chair, and May's heart collapsed with him. Worry bubbled from her stomach to her throat.

"Peter, you're so pale. What happened? Do you need me to call the school, tell them you're sick?" May knelt in front of him, looking up with concerned, anxious eyes. Peter avoided eye contact, choosing to look at the wall instead. Immediately, May knew that the next words out of his mouth were going to be complete lies.

"I'm fine, May. I just, um, I just stayed up too late last night. There's an, a decathlon meet today, and I just wanted some extra time studying." 

"Peter..." May carded a warm hand through his hair.

"I'm fine, really! I can go to school." At the last sentence, what May knew to be Peter's attempt at a reassuring smile turned to more of a grimace. 

"You don't need to force yourself to go to school, you know. One or two days is nothing. Ned can come over too. All you should worry about is getting better." She said, trying her best to muster as much motherly comfort as she could into her voice while trying to ignore the blatant lie that Peter just told her.

"No, it's not that. It's, it's the Stark Internship."

Again with the internship. May wasn't very sure how to feel about it. Her instinct had immediately told her that no, she shouldn't let her pure, adorable nephew be whisked away and tainted by the alcoholic, spontaneous, arrogant, reckless Tony Stark, who seemed to be caught up in a new scandal every time she looked at the TV. Not to mention the time when Stark rescinded the internship, and Peter cried in her arms for hours. 

 _Maybe,_  she admitted that she had a bit of a bias. She didn't  _really_  know him. 

But who she did know was Peter. Even inexperienced wreck of a parental figure she was, she knew that the Stark Internship had put a light in his eyes and made him chatter excitedly non-stop about this new thing that Mr. Stark had shown him or that new idea that Mr. Stark had come up with. 

Every day, even on days that weren't Monday, Wednesday, or Friday, his internship days, Peter would be happier, in general. He would be buzzed and excited, constantly drawing out blueprints or writing down code for something. When asked about it, he would just go "Well, I get to go to the lab tomorrow!" with the biggest, dorkiest smile on his face.

On bad days, when Peter's bullying (that he would never admit happened) was worse than usual, he would hug her a bit tighter when she came home, and they would be in comfortable silence for a while. She didn't ask, and he didn't tell. She knew that he just needed to know that she would always be there for him. 

Nowadays, he would sometimes mutter "At least tomorrow's a lab day," with the smallest smile on his face, and it warmed her heart.

She couldn't take that away from him.

"I don't really mind school that much, but today's a lab day, and Mr. Stark said last time that we were gonna start on something really really cool, so I definitely wanna go." Even with a sore throat, Peter rambled, albeit more quietly than usual. "I don't really think Happy would wanna pick me up from here, especially if he thinks I'm sick or something."

May sighed, knowing that there was no possible way she could win.

"Okay, fine." She noted how Peter's shoulders sagged with relief. "-But you have to call me if you feel worse. Capiche?"

"Yeah, I promise." Peter smiled at her tiredly, and she dabbed a quick kiss on his forehead before heading out to work.

With every step she took out the door, she felt more and more as if saying yes to Peter was a mistake.

...

Miraculously, Peter managed to hobble through an entire day of school. He was pretty sure his eyes were only half-open, and his brain was functioning at 3% capacity, but still, he considered that a win. 

Ned must've poked him awake at least 49 times in Calculus when the teacher's droning voice feeding the students formulas and numbers began to sound a lot like a lullaby. Whispering, Ned had frantically asked him what happened and what was wrong with him, but all Peter managed to get out through a whole day's worth of questioning were a stream of slurred "I'm fine"s.

Lies.

A resounding headache that was present since the moment he opened his eyes made him cringe with nearly every step he took. His legs felt like lead, but he also felt so dizzy that he felt like he was flying... just not in a good way.

He felt as if he was floating yet sinking at the same time. Did that make sense? No, no, of course, it didn't. Maybe he was alternating. Like, floating for a few seconds, and sinking for another few, and then switching again. Like a boat.

That would definitely explain the uncomfortably warm nausea that was curling in his stomach.

He opened the school doors, and the cold fresh air that greeted him blissfully numbed his senses... for about two seconds. As the pain crashed back into him, Peter cursed the ground he was standing on, in true Gen Z fashion.

Spotting the familiar black Audi that was parked on the road, Peter unconsciously smiled and started walking over to the car.

As he stepped, he tried to pinpoint when he was floating and when he was sinking, trying to see a rhythm. Unfortunately, he still felt very much like he was floating and sinking at the same time, which he knew didn't make sense.

It was probably because his senses were so blurry. His vision seemed fine, but he doubted he was processing very much of what he was seeing. His hearing was the problem. The entire day had sounded like, to Peter, what tunnel vision looked like, except about 30 times louder. It was muddled and nauseating, and echoey, and god, he could not wait to get into that car. 

He fumbled with the handle for a few seconds before climbing in. The blissful moment of silence washed over him, and relief seeped into every pore on his body. Silently, he thanked Mr. Stark for adjusting the car to make it soundproof (he wasn't exactly sure how he managed to find out about his sensory overload). 

He flipped over to lean his head against the cool leather and sighed.

Better.

But of course Happy would choose to speak up now.

"You're pale as a ghost. You know, if you get hurt or something, that's my responsibility, right?" The cold sounding voice was the same as always.

Was that question rhetorical? Because his throat felt like it was screaming, and he'd rather not answer something he doesn't need to. Eh, it sounded kinda rhetorical to him. And, was it just him, or were the leather seats a lot more comfortable than he remembered? He could still smell a bit of what he thought to be Mr. Stark's cologne, mixed with the signature scent of motor oil and metal that seemed to linger on him wherever he went. Vaguely, Peter wondered when that scent became so relaxing to him.

"Kid?" Maybe it was just his sick-addled brain, but Peter swore he could sense just a tiny tinge of worry in Happy's voice. "Kid, what's wrong?"

"I'm a boat," Peter replied, before falling fast asleep.

...

"Kid?" Mr. Stark's voice came into focus. "Kid, you okay? Try to open your eyes for me." 

Mm...ugh. Did he have to? The scent of motor oil, metal and cologne was 10x stronger now, and Peter was pretty sure he could live just fine on scents and sounds alone at this point. His eyes just felt like they weighed a gazillion tons, and he wasn't really sure he wanted to invest his limited energy on that type of commitment. 

Peter heard Mr. Stark chuckle. Huh. Did he say that out loud?

"Your choice, kiddo. Wouldn't be your stupidest idea." Peter felt a warm hand comb through his curls, and instinctively, he relaxed into the touch. "C'mon, let's get you out of the car."

By the arm, Peter felt himself get dragged out of the door and heard the soft ding of the elevator as they arrived at Mr. Stark's floor. Actually, every floor was Mr. Stark's floor, wasn't it? 

He only realized that they weren't in the lab when they plopped down on a soft couch. 

"Wha-?" Peter slurred out, noticing that he had somehow managed to halfway open his eyes throughout the trip. Hooray. "Misser S'ark... what are we doin' 'ere?"

"What, you thought I would let you work in the lab today, in your condition? Your face is both too pale and too red at the same time. How'd you manage to pull that off?" 

"It's a gift." Peter shook himself out of his daze and quickly regretted it as his headache returned with a vengeance.

"Too bad you're not sick enough to stop those witty little remarks."

"For you, Mr. Stark? Never." He yawned, but even that hurt, as his throat constricted and his head throbbed. On the bright side, most of the nausea was gone.

"Anyway, you're not really the type to get sick-"

"I'm not sick. I'm fine; let's go into the lab." 

Mr. Stark fixed him with a look that said "is that so?" far clearer than words could've. He got up from the couch, and Peter heard the sound of the freezer in the kitchen opening before Mr. Stark came back with a spider-man themed ice-pack and a small bottle in his hands. He pressed it against Peter's forehead, and Peter felt his shoulders immediately sag with relief.

"Not sick, was it?" Mr. Stark smirked in that trademark way that only he did. "Yeah, that's a no from me, Underoos. How about we sit down, and you tell me what got you sick after you drink this cough syrup that Bruce tricked out?" He held the bottle out for Peter to take. "Oh yeah, but it's about 20 times more bitter than normal cough syrup since we had to make it stronger."

Peter looked at the bottle and then at him, horrified.

"Just kidding." Mr. Stark shrugged, chuckling. "Enjoy the taste of fake cherry and lies."

A bottle of instant throat relief later, Peter started rambling again, in true Peter Parker fashion. Mr. Stark seemed relieved.

"So, like, Mr. Delmar was complaining about this robber that came to his store and took money from the cash register for, like, three days straight, so I patrolled around there yesterday a lot later than usual--"

"It was raining like hell last night. Don't tell me you--"

"Yeah, um, in my defense, it wasn't in the forecast, and I really felt fine at first! And I caught the criminal pretty soon after it started raining anyway. It's just, I was so tired when I got home, and it was late, so--"

"--so you went to bed without changing your clothes, or taking a shower." Mr. Stark sighed. "Kid..."

"Says the person who goes for days without sleeping or eating." 

"Touche. Well, we're definitely not going in the lab today, so how about we order some takeout and watch some movies?" 

Peter's excited smile was enough of an answer.

...

Half a movie later, the kid was slumped on Tony's shoulder and snoring quietly, stopping every few minutes to snuggle further into his side, oddly reminding him of a puppy.

He felt a spark of pride at the fact that the kid was comfortable enough around him to sleep, although his tiredness may have been fueled by the cold. Looking down, he saw Peter's relaxed face and noted with relief that some more natural color seemed to be there. 

What did he do to deserve this kid?

Obviously, for the first time in his life, he must've done something right. 

Hopefully, he didn't fuck this up as he did with everything else. He didn't know what he would do if he did. 

For now, he thinks, he'll just watch over him; keep him safe. Tony knew that Peter would probably surpass him someday, and he prayed to a god he didn't believe in to be there to see it when he did. He could imagine it now: Peter walking onto a stage and presenting a new world-changing innovation; being greeted by old geniuses all around the globe, eager to mentor him, to teach him, to bring him to greater heights. Surely, any of them would be less of a fuck-up than Tony.  

He wonders if he's being selfish, by trying to keep Peter by his side. 

Peter chooses that precise moment to burrow deeper in his side, mumbling something that sounded almost like "Mr. Stark, don't worry about me".  For a blissful second, all of Tony's knotted thoughts were wiped, and he relaxed, leaning into the bundle of soft, rain-scented curls that was the bright Peter Parker.

Oh, well. Even if he was being selfish and even if he has to let go of Peter, he hoped that any sort of god up there would at least let him keep this moment.

With that last thought, Tony Stark fell blissfully into a dreamless sleep to the sound of Toy Story and the smell of rain.

...

Tony was jolted awake by the buzzing chime of a call. Much to his relief, he noted that Peter didn't seem to stir at all. A glance at his phone scared all the tiredness out of him, and for a second, he considered replacing his morning coffee.

A call from May Parker.

God, what time was it? Did he keep the kid too long? He knew he shouldn't have fallen asleep.

"Hi, May? What's up?" He unconsciously switched into his PR voice, which sounded a bit colder than he remembered. 

"Hey, Mr. Stark. I'm sorry to bother you and Peter during your work, but could I pick up Peter a bit early today? He seemed sick this morning." Her voice echoed concern, even across the phone. "By the way, do you know why he looked so tired this morning?"

"Probably my fault, sorry," Tony said smoothly. That part wasn't a lie. There were a million things he could have done to prevent this from happening, and he didn't. He made a note to upgrade Karen's safety protocols and the heater in the suit. "I probably just gave him too much intern work; forgot he was a highschooler. I'll lay off him a bit."

"...Yeah, thanks." May's voice was worryingly skeptic, and Tony realized with a start that his story definitely didn't corroborate with the one Peter told. Damn. "I'll head over in a few-"

Tony opened his mouth.

"-don't bother to offer to send Happy. I just want to see his face, yunno, see if he's doing okay for myself as soon as possible."

"No problem."

The call clicked. Tony stared down at his young intern, thinking that they should probably get off the couch and pretend to have been working in the lab the entire time. After all, he didn't want May to think that Peter was just wasting his time here watching Disney movies and eating junk food, instead of learning things and experiencing true engineering, like he should at a true internship. He couldn't imagine what Howard would do if he was in the same-

No. No, May Parker wasn't Howard. She was never Howard, would never be Howard. He really had to stop using him as a reference. In fact, Tony shouldn't really use anything in his life as a reference.

Tony Stark's life was abnormal in every way. He was forced to grow up quickly, yet never quite completely matured, constantly going to parties or getting wasted. He had tried drugs, weed, and everything that every parent would be horrified to find their children with. Except apparently Howard. Maria always kept one eye open for her son, no matter how busy she was, and once in a while, Tony would catch his mother giving him the saddest, most disappointed look she could muster. Even so, he didn't stop. 

He ended up not getting their attention until the end of their lives, when, as a grieving teenager, he was sure that both of them died without remembering even their son's birthday. 

His teenage years were a flaming mess that was never extinguished until his late thirties. Until Afghanistan.

He may be a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist now, but he would never wish his life upon anybody.

Especially not upon Peter.

With a heavy resolution to protect the kid until the end of his life, or even perhaps beyond the end of his life, he relaxed again in Peter's hold.

"Friday, wake us up when May enters through the guest entrance."

"Yes, boss."

He sighed and leaned his head on Peter's curls.

It seemed like he slept best around the kid.

...

Throughout the call, May had become increasingly frustrated with Tony Stark and his uncaring, arrogant personality. Her nephew, who idolized him to the sun and back, was so obviously sick, and he couldn't give less of a damn? She wasn't asking him to watch Disney movies with him and eat takeout, but he forced a sick child to work with him in the lab, despite being the cause of his sickness in the first place.

He was exactly how the media said he was, pushing his own work onto his bright naive intern just so he could have a few more minutes to drink or do drugs or bed someone, or whatever the hell Tony did during his free time.

Of course, Peter would lie to cover for him. 

She hoped Peter was okay. He looked extremely pale this morning; hopefully, he hadn't gotten a fever throughout the day from overwork or something. She was lucky one of her coworkers came in to cover her shift to let her off early. 

May got out of her car and had started to walk towards the guest entrance when a familiar voice greeted her from behind.

"May? Is that you?" She turned around and was met with Pepper Potts. "Here to see Peter?"

"Oh, yeah. The hospital let me off early today, and Peter didn't look so well this morning, so I wanted to come to see how he was doing, and pick him up if need be." 

"What a coincidence. I'm off work early too, so I'm here to see what kind of hole Tony dug himself into while I was away." Despite her words, May caught Pepper's ghost of a fond smile. She remembered when she used to smile like that for Ben. "Anyway, they're probably together, which means we're heading to the same place. Why don't you come up with me? It's faster."

"I'll take you up on that, then, Ms. Potts." 

"Please, Pepper's fine." May followed Pepper to the main entrance. "Besides, Peter might as well be family to Tony at this point." 

"Really?" Huh. That was new. She was surprised Tony even had a family.

"Tony may not have his blood family, but he has us. He has me, and Happy, and Rhodey, and now, Peter." Warmth radiated from Pepper in waves. May suddenly felt as if all she knew about Pepper was shattered. Yes, she was still the perfect-postured, stiletto-wearing confident woman that the media showed her to be, but she wasn't cold or apathetic. Not in the slightest.

"I see. I'm glad." May felt a genuine smile rise to her lips.

They stepped onto the elevator, and a comfortable silence hung between the two ladies for a while. Just as they passed the 38th floor, Pepper spoke again.

"Hey, May?" 

"Hm?"

"Thank you." Pepper's eyes were still glued to the counting floors of the elevator, but her voice had slightly trembled with emotion.

"For what?" May tilted her head.

"For everything: saying yes to the internship, for taking care of Peter, for not judging Tony as everyone else did. Just, for Peter and Tony, thank you." A lump of guilt settled in May's stomach. "I don't remember the last time I saw Tony smile so much, or sleep so long without nightmares. Especially after the Avengers fell apart."

The elevator dinged, and they both stepped out.

"Even when nearly all of his team left him, Peter was there. Thank you for letting him be there." The click of Pepper's heels stopped, and she stood in front of May, dipping her head in a small bow. "Thank you."

For lack of anything better to say, May replied, "You're welcome." She pretended that her voice wasn't choked up.

They both rounded the corner into the living room.

May stopped in her tracks.

Thai food takeout boxes were littered across the table, and Toy Story 2 was playing on the TV. Peter was snuggled against Tony's side, and Tony had his arm around Peter and his head resting on Peter's curls.

They looked so relaxed, and they looked  _right,_ as if this was the way it was supposed to be from the start. Huh. May was wrong, it seemed, about just about everything.

Her heart melted, and before she knew it, she felt tears dripping down her face. Pepper's hand gently patted her on her shoulder, and in her eyes, May saw the same fondness she spotted before.

"What's wrong?" The fondness shifted to concern.

"Nothing. Nothing, it's just- I'm glad that Peter has someone else on his side." She wiped away her tears. "And, I'm sorry for judging Tony so quickly."

Pepper smiled at her.

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I probably just gave him too much intern work; forgot he was a highschooler."


	2. Dammit, Karen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May's first impression of Karen is definitely better than her first impression of Tony, to say the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter!

As the internship continued, May found herself noting down all the similarities Peter had to Tony, not believing herself that their base personalities were practically the same.

Of course, one couldn't tell just by looking at them. 

In his youth, Peter was more jittery and humble. As a paparazzi and media veteran, Tony was calmer, more charismatic. 

Anyone looking at them said they were night and day. Perhaps the phrase "opposites attract" may come up a few times, but May had always thought that saying was a bit stupid, anyway.

So, instead of looking, May watched.

Watched as they both lost themselves in their projects within minutes.

Watched as they silently vaguely motioned to the other, somehow understanding each other perfectly.

Watched as both rambled to each other excitedly, when nervous or happy.

Tony, she noticed, was simply a Peter who was forced to grow up too quickly. Sometimes, May would catch him rambling to himself or fiddling passionately with a gadget in his hands before he noticed he was being watched and immediately switched faces, an almost conditioned reflex.

She pitied him.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had started to warm up to the internship.

May relaxed in her seat for just a second, before she heard the front door opening, followed by Peter's "I'm home!".

As he walked into the living room, the gleam of something on his wrist caught May's eye immediately.

Ah, right. That was the second reason.

"Nice watch." May smiled at Peter in a way that she knew that he understood meant "elaborate, please". 

She wasn't lying, either. It really was a beautiful watch. The band was a silver metal lined with strands of a darker metal, giving it a sleek, modern look. It was one of those newer models too, she thought, with the watch having a screen. 

"Oh, um, yesterday, Mr. Stark gave it to me." Well, that she knew already. "I didn't really want to accept it, 'cause it's like so new and it has, like, so many functions, and I'm pretty sure this model isn't even in stores yet, and well, I doubt I'd be able to buy it normally, like ever, but Mr. Stark insisted, and well, he-- um, convinced me with...something. He wanted it to look special, so he was gonna give me one that was red and blue or like, red and gold, like his suit, yunno? But I kinda felt like it probably wasn't a really good idea to stand out, so I told him that maybe like gray or something simple would be fine so he didn't need to go out of his way, but he still made me this, and it's the most amazing thing I've ever seen, but I still feel kinda bad---"

Her nephew really was too cute. While Peter went on a tangent, she shot a quick text to Tony.

_May: Thanks for the watch. Peter's really happy. But again, you really don't need to go out of your way for this kind of stuff (not that I don't appreciate it)._

_Tony Stark: It's no problem, really. I had some free time anyway, and it's nothing special._

May tucked her phone away and tuned back to Peter's rambling.

"--so that was, like, totally awesome of Ned, right?"

"Ned's great," May replied. 

"Yeah!" Peter beamed and promptly turned to the fridge. "By the way, May, do we have anything to eat?"

"Hm... not something you can heat up or eat right now, but I could try whipping up something real quick! I found this recipe online---" 

"No! No, no, no, it's fine, I was just, uh, wondering." Peter closed the fridge and walked back to the living room.

"What's up? Did you eat enough for lunch? You ate breakfast like I told you to, right?"

"Yeah! Yeah, yeah, yeah, of course."

The watch that had turned off, looking as if it was just a simple bracelet, came back to life, the blue screen glowing. A female voice rang out from Peter's wrist.

"You haven't eaten since dinner at 8 PM last night. Your blood sugar is abnormally low. Peter, I suggest you eat something high in carbohy---"

Peter covered his watch with his other hand, trying to muffle the sound.

"That's enough, Karen. If you could please just... stop... talking..."

"--You shouldn't skip meals, Peter. You're a growing boy, and you must properly--"

"Mute!"

"Unfortunately, due to my 'Tattletale Protocol', I am unable to be muted. To disable the 'Tattletale Protocol', you must first enable my 'Eating Reminders', 'Curfew Protocol', 'Baby's Bedtime Protocol', and 'Stupidity Notifs'. Would you like me to enable them now?"

"No!"

"Calling Mr. Stark..."

"Wait, Karen don't--!"

"I was joking, Peter." May swore she heard levity in the AI's voice. Peter grumbled in response.

May smiled. This was gonna be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "It's no problem, really. I had some free time anyway, and it's nothing special."
> 
> ...
> 
> May's impression of Tony got just a little bit better.  
> (She thanked him over the phone later, and commended him on his "miraculous invention")


	3. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has a panic attack at school.
> 
> Luckily, that's one of the few fields that Tony seems to know about.

He was being stupid; he knew that.

Unfortunately, it seemed like his more logical thoughts had retreated to the back of his head, choosing to hide under the raw blanket of panic that was covering Peter. 

He didn't know exactly what caused it. It was just--- a tile on the ceiling was slightly out of place, and the idiot teenager he was, Peter had poked it, and it came crashing down on the floor. The cloud of cement dust followed, and before he knew it, Peter Parker, the Amazing Spider-Man, had forgotten how to breathe.

Like the foreboding feeling of the calm before the storm, Peter had felt a small sense of dread crawl up his spine, and a distinct dryness settled itself into his mouth. In a rare moment, his thoughts had shut up, and the entire world went mute.

But silence, Peter had noticed, never lasted very long.

He blinked, and suddenly, he was back under the rubble of the abandoned building, the scent of cement filling his lungs. 

He opened his mouth to scream.

Nothing came out.

He couldn't breathe.

His chest hurt.

His body hurt.

His heart was banging against his ribs.

_I'm going to die._

He couldn't breathe--- he couldn't breathe--- he couldn't breathe---

_I'm going to die._

It was dark, nobody could see him, nobody could hear him, he couldn't breathe, why the fuck couldn't he breathe, oh my god he was going to die alone here---

_I don't want to die._

Nausea and dizziness swept over him in a wave. With every breath he took, the scent of cement only got stronger.

 _The cement,_ he thought.  _I'm becoming cement._

Never had such unbridled fear rushed through his veins. Pure panic reached through every pore in his body, and if he was crying, he couldn't feel it.

Desperately, he slapped his hands over his mouth and nose.

_Don't breathe. You can't breathe._

His lungs disagreed.

_No more cement._

They were burning up his chest. He felt the heavy pressure of the building on his chest and on his back, and his lungs were screaming in pain. He was going to die. He felt it. 

Death wasn't calming.

Death wasn't welcoming.

It was terrifying.

But even so, he'd rather die than breathe in the cement again.

His vision was shaking, and dizziness bit back at him with a vengeance.

Was this it?

"-eter! Peter! Kid, you gotta fuckin' breathe!" 

Mr. Stark?

Mr. Stark didn't understand. Peter would become cement if he breathed.

Vaguely, he felt callused hands trying to pry his hands away from his mouth.

What was he doing?

Why couldn't he understand?

Peter  _couldn't_ breathe.

"You won't die if you breathe, kid. Alright? Trust me. You're gonna be alright." 

Peter had never heard Mr. Stark's voice shake before. 

For a second, all of his thoughts skidded to a halt, until one question remained.

Would he do what his head was telling him, or would he trust Mr. Stark?

Well, the answer was obvious.

Shakily, Peter opened his mouth and dragged in a long breath of air. 

Instant relief washed over his lungs, and Peter felt his entire body relax. Not used to the air yet, he promptly coughed it back up. 

But this, he thought, was okay.

It wasn't cement he was breathing in, but the familiar smell of motor oil, metal, and cologne.  

He heard Mr. Stark huff a deep sigh of relief over him, and he was suddenly aware of the presence of a callused hand on his back, rubbing small circles in a steady rhythm. 

"That's great, Pete. You're doing good. Just keep breathing. You're safe. You're safe." 

_I'm safe._

The rapid banging of his heart insisted otherwise, but he tried to drown it out with his mentor's voice, which had seemed to fall to a gentler, softer tone.

"Thank you for trusting me, Peter."

A weak smile found its way onto Peter's face.

"How could I not trust Iron Man?"

Mr. Stark's eyes melted, and he hugged Peter.

Peter's chest still hurt, and he was still trapped in a state of panic, but it was duller now. His thoughts had released him; he was in the real world now. 

Physical pain washed over him in waves, but, in Mr. Stark's embrace, he knew he was safe. He almost felt like a small child again, being protected by the great, almighty, genius Iron Man, who saved the world in and out of his suit. 

Vaguely, he heard Mr. Stark muttering "in four, hold seven, out eight," and tried his best to line his breathing up to his chanting.

He didn't know how much time passed before the last of the pain dimmed to an ache, and his eyelids slowly slid shut.

...

The kid finally fell asleep in his arms, probably having tired himself out. 

God knows he knew how that felt.

Slowly, he lifted Peter, surprised at how heavy the kid was, and started his trek to the nurse's office. 

He sighed, remembering how he had rushed to the school in the suit, nearly tripping over himself to go to the main office. His mind was preoccupied then, but he supposed he must've given the receptionist quite a scare, with his usual poker face completely forgotten, panting and rambling out Peter's name and grade in a half-conscious rant. 

Well, what was he supposed to think? When Karen had called him in the middle of a business meeting, it was clear something was wrong. He just didn't know that something would be so wrong that it dropped his heart right down to his stomach, the words  _"Peter"_ and _"panic attack"_ echoing in loops around his head.

He had found Peter in the hallway a shaking sobbing mess, muttering something incomprehensible about cement. For a second, Tony had stood still. 

The kid he was so used to seeing laughing, or excitedly rambling was curled up in a ball, vulnerable and hurt. Tony had seen Peter upset before, sure, but it wasn't  _this._ It didn't prepare him for this. Nothing did.

He admonished himself. The kid was a superpowered teenager, who faced crime daily while also trying to navigate some of the most stressful years of his life. What was Tony expecting? For him not to get scarred? For him not to get hurt? Deep down, he was sure he knew that was impossible.

Maybe, he thought, he just didn't want to think about it. Peter was one of the only constant comforts in his life, and perhaps he had relied on Peter so much that he forgot that he was a  _real_ kid. 

A kid.

He looked at the trembling Peter who had bunched himself into a corner. He was whispering to himself, his voice crackling and tear-stained, "...no more cement... no more cement..."

_A kid._

Tony was so selfish; he didn't save him from this. He'd screwed up. Again.

Shit. 

Suddenly, Peter had slapped his hands over his mouth and his nose, as if he was trying to suffocate himself.

_Shit._

Tony's body moved before his mind. Before he knew it, his shaky hands (shaky? his hands were never shaky.) were trying to pry Peter's from his face.

"Peter! Peter, you gotta breathe! Kid, C'mon! C'mon breathe for me, alright? Peter!" 

Panic was one of Tony's more familiar friends. 

And it seemed like they had just gotten reintroduced.

"Peter! Peter! Kid, you gotta fucking breathe!"

Tony swore he saw a flash of recognition blink through Peter's eyes.

_Hope._

"You won't die if you breathe, kid. Alright? Trust me. You're gonna be alright."

Peter's body slowed its shaking to a soft tremble. A moment of almost-silence passed.

Like he had just won a fight against himself, Peter took a desperate breath in.

Tony let out a breath of relief through clenched teeth.

While Peter coughed at the sudden intake of air, Tony tried to calm his heart, whispering comforts to his kid in the warmest voice he could muster.

When Peter had calmed down enough, Tony said softly, "Thank you for trusting me, Peter." 

"How could I not trust Iron Man?" Peter coughed out a breathy chuckle.

_This kid._

Warmth rushed through Tony's veins, and for once, he was too occupied to overthink it.

The sound of Peter's breathing reached Tony's ears, and he pressed his hand into the small of his back. Peter was cold, but Tony's hands were always warm, anyway. In slow circles, he hoped that his presence would at least make Peter feel a little safer.

Tony drew upon old memories of Jarvis comforting him through his own panic attacks and imitated him, muttering "in four, hold seven, out eight," in a steady rhythm that had long since been ingrained in his mind. He knew he couldn't be as stable and reliable to Peter as Jarvis was to him, but that didn't mean he didn't try.

And, unlike Jarvis, he wasn't going to leave Peter. At least, not until Peter decided he was done with Tony. 

Even then, would he be able to leave? Would he be ready to go on with his life, pretending as if a certain, bubbly, rambling child had never been in it? 

He steeled himself. 

No, Tony. This isn't about you. This is about Peter.  _For_ Peter. If you ever became the reason that smile was wiped off his face, what would you do with yourself? Wouldn't it be worse than going on with your life, knowing Peter was enjoying his on his own? You're a fuckup by birth, Tony. Don't drag others in with you.

And besides, he was  _just_ an intern.

An intern he would watch movies with.

An intern he would cook for.

An intern he would take care of when sick.

Peter's breathing turned steady beside him, and he looked over at the boy, now sound asleep on his shoulder. His heart immediately, involuntarily, sagged with relief.

An intern, he muttered to himself, he would panic over. An intern he would desperately fly to to comfort in crisis.

After a numbed talk with the nurse to check Peter out, he carried Peter on his back to his suit, waiting patiently outside. 

He swallowed thickly.

 _Caring for someone,_ he thought,  _must be one of the scariest things in the world._

He thanked the world for letting the sound of his repulsors drown out his thoughts.

....

Tony landed gently on his balcony.

His suit was taken off by his beloved robots as he still held Peter in his arms, carrying him down the hall to a door.

The old guest room used to be white and empty, a blank canvas compared to the rest of the compound. Tony had dubbed it "the forgotten room" once, but he later forgot that too. 

That changed when he first laid his eyes on a Star Wars poster alongside some figurines at a local store, and immediately, a particular nerdy intern came to mind. 

Soon, the plethora of trinkets piled up in the room: a Spiderman plushie he found, a fan's drawing that Peter had received while patrolling, Lego models, textbooks and backpacks Peter had left behind, and even a few posters of movies and heroes that Tony knew Peter liked.

Peter had first seen it when he asked where his homework assignment was, and Tony offhandedly replied with "the spider room, second door to your left," absorbed in a certain green scientist's new research paper.

Tony was knocked out of his daze when he heard Peter's loud gasp and the thump of his textbooks falling onto the marble floors. Already thinking the worst, Tony darted down the hall, only to find his young intern staring at the room in shock.

His mouth was opening and closing, but no words were coming out. 

_Oh my god, he hates it._

"Kid, I'm sorry---"

"...when..?" The choked up croak of Peter's voice interrupted him, but his gaze never fell off the room.

"Started 'bout a month ago." 

Silence hung between the two of them, so Tony figured he should probably explain.

"I went shopping; saw something, thought of you, bought it, because why the hell not, and I put it in this room. And that happened over and over again for a month-ish." 

_It's creepy, isn't it? Is he uncomfortable?_

"Mr. Stark... I don't know what to say--this is the coolest thing I've ever seen; I can't-- I can't even, like, is that a Lego Death Star? And, you remembered that stupid thing I said about musicals? And that one time I said I wanted an actual AP physics textbook, and those posters: some of them are, like, rare limited-edition prints--- this is... this is..."

Peter's voice became choked up, and Tony felt his heart sag with relief and fondness.

Peter finally tore his wet eyes away from the room and was met with the sight of Tony with two outstretched arms.

He stared at Tony, confused.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed, smiling.

"...We're there, kid."

He had never been tackled with a hug so hard in his life.

It was a nice memory.

Tony glanced at Peter, now snuggled in Star Wars bedsheets, and silently thanked him for giving even an empty room color and a feeling of its own.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he considered ignoring it before a glance at the screen almost gave him his second heart attack today.

_May Parker._

**_Shit._ **

"Hey May..." He forced his heart to switch from tenderness to PR mode and awaited the long-winded yelling lecture on the other end of the line.

"Why'd you check Peter out of school today?"  

There it was.

"Well--"

"And the nurse said he had a panic attack! A panic attack, Tony. He's only 15!" 

May sounded very much like she was the one having the panic attack.

"He's a kid! He should be having fun--- doing kid stuff! But he had... he had a  _panic attack!_ Is he okay? Do you know what made him...?"

"He's sleeping in the compound right now; I'll ask more when he wakes up. Don't worry, it was probably just some stress at school. He's a strong kid, May. He'll be fine. I'll be sure to help him out more, do more for him, relax him a bit---"

_Be better._

Tony swallowed.

"How are you calm...? I don't know how you're this calm."

Calm?

_Calm?_

A sobbing Peter muttering crazily to himself about the scent of cement flashed through his mind.

The hand holding Tony's phone started to shake, and Tony walked out of Peter's room, closing the door behind him.

May went on. 

"Are you  _sure_ it was about schoolwork? I'm sure you know this, but when it comes to schoolwork, Peter has little to no trouble with much of anything." 

"...I'm sure."

A loud voice calling for May rung out in the background.

"I need to go, but I'll pick him up after work ends. I'll ask him myself, Tony, don't worry about it."

The phone clicked.

Tony relaxed against the door.

He was about to tell his heartbeat to shut the fuck up and cool down in the lab before he thought of Peter, waking up alone in his room, tired and groggy out of his mind from his attack.

He went back inside.

...

 

Around two hours passed before Tony heard Peter stirring in the bed beside him. 

Groggily, Peter opened his eyes. He seemed to stiffen for a second, almost in a panic, before he saw the figure sitting over him and instantly relaxed. Tony didn't know why, but Peter took a deep breath in through his nose as if assuring himself of something before he started talking.

"Mister Stark?"

Tony didn't know why Peter waited for a response, but he complied anyway.

"That's me, kid."

Peter paused.

"How'd we get here?"

"Picked you up with my suit. You're heavier than you look; is that a spidey thing, or a Peter Parker thing?"

Smiling, Peter replied, "Probably a little bit of both. ...How'd you know?"

"Know what?"

"Know that I was in... yunno... trouble."

"You're always in trouble. But now, if some of that trouble affects your heart rate and your blood pressure, I'll get notified by Karen that the trouble is the 'trouble' type of trouble."

"You said 'trouble' too many times in that sentence."

"Trouble is my middle name; I've earned that right."

For the next half hour, Peter asked questions he already knew the answer to and told Tony about mundane things in that endearing rambling pattern he always seemed to return to. But if Tony had learned anything in his years, it was to read people. He wasn't stupid. In each pause after every story, he would see a flash of uneasy panic in Peter's eyes before it was covered up by forced lightheartedness.

"...so um..." The uneasiness came back. "...Did I ever tell you about the time Ned and I went to Times Square? We went to this really popular pizza place--"

"Kid." Tony swallowed. "Not that I don't want to hear about the time you and Ned ate so many slices you threw up; but isn't there something else...? I mean, if you don't really want to talk about it, it's fine, but kid--"

He ran a hand down his face.

_ Was he hearing himself?  _

"Sorry, I'm gonna-- I'm gonna do that again." He cleared his throat and leaned forward towards Peter, his elbows on his knees. “We’re both… beating around the bush here, Pete. If the reason you don't want to talk is that you don't  _ want  _ to think about it, then that's okay. We can do that. Yunno-- stay in, eat trash, get yelled at by Pepper; do whatever for however long it take for you to feel more ‘Peter’ again. 

“But if the reason you don't want to talk is that you think I don't care, or I don't want to listen, or even that it'll feel lame or uncool, then I am going to tell you right now...that you’re wrong. It’s true that you were just ‘Spider-Man’ to me when we first met, but now I know…  _ you  _ know...you’re more than that. Peter Parker is Peter fuckin’ Parker, the most dumb-smart kid I’ve ever met who would put himself in danger for others faster than he could swing.”

For a few moments, Peter just stared, his body frozen.

His body seemed to melt all at once. His eyes welled up, while his hands shook. 

This time, it was Tony who hugged him first.

The gasping sobs broke his heart, but years of publicity and media had taught him when to keep his mouth shut. He waited.

“I thought...I thought you would think I was a bad hero.” Peter squeezed Tony a bit tighter. “I was...it was… It was a piece of cement, but I… for no reason…I just…”

He burrowed his face into Tony’s shirt.

“It’s so  _ stupid.” _

“It’s not stupid, kid.”

Peter swallowed.

“I remembered… that one time, I fought the Vulture. I wasn’t paying attention, and he, he, collapsed all the pillars holding the building up, and it just… came down.” His fist clenched the back of Tony’s shirt. “There was this huge, this huge dark cloud of cement, and it grabbed me. It was… thick. In my lungs, in my throat.” 

Peter paused, swallowing again, and Tony squeezed the boy whose frame was too thin for his soul tighter against him.

“...I thought I was gonna die.” 

His voice was choked up.

“I thought about not seeing May again, not seeing you again. The last time I talked with you would’ve been that fight. And I was so scared… and when I saw that cement block at school, and it smelled, just,  _ exactly  _ the same, I felt scared all over again, and it’s just all so  _ stupid.  _ I’m out... yunno? I’m safe, and I  _ know  _ that. And… I’m Spider-Man. I’m Spider-Man. How am I supposed to help people if I can’t even…”

“Kid. Stop.” Tony broke the hug. “No one gets out of things like that unscathed. No one. Hero or not, before anything else, you’re a human being. When I got out of Afghanistan, I couldn’t sleep for months. I couldn’t close my eyes without feeling like someone was digging into my chest. Slept with the lights on. If they were off, then I would be back at the cave again, no painted walls, or overly priced modern art to be seen.

“I had panic attacks every day. Everything reminded me of… everything. And it was  _ bad _ . I’m not gonna tell you it gets better. Come a decade later, I’m still scared of the dark and even remotely cave-y places. But you learn to live with it.”

He placed a callused hand on a young shoulder. He wondered he was sinning by letting this shoulder hold more weight than it should.

“You’re allowed to feel things, Parker. Don’t be me. Don’t shove it down. You can’t learn to live with something if you don’t acknowledge it exists in the first place.”

Peter hugged Tony, and he didn’t let go for a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "...I'm sure."


	4. Career Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate titles:  
> Flash is an asshole but IronDad comes to the rescue (x2)

Peter had never really liked Career Day. After all, it was just a repeat ripoff of elementary school Parents’ Day in all but name. It wasn’t like he was bitter; his parents died too early for him to have any memories to be bitter about. 

Uncle Ben was… different. Back when he was alive, when Peter had walked in between May and Ben, being swung over sidewalk cracks and being hurried past ice cream shops, Peter had never thought that they were his parents. He had never imagined that they were; he had never accidentally called them Mom or Dad. Because they weren’t. They didn’t need to be, either. Little Peter didn’t have Mom and Dad, but he had May and Ben, and that was enough. Occasionally, as he got older, he would wonder if they _were_ his ‘parents’, and ultimately decided that, no, they weren’t. Even if Peter had never really known his mother and father, he thought that they deserved to continue being just that, even after death. He had already had a Mom and Dad, and now he had a May and Ben. They were different to Peter, mostly because Peter knew they _deserved_ to be different. May and Ben weren’t just replacement Mom and Dads. 

But, Peter thought, if his parents were still alive, he was sure that it’d feel just like this.

He would never know for sure. 

It was that sort of wistfulness that made Career Day so annoying for Peter. He would see a kid lecturing his parents just outside the school, begging them not to embarrass him, and feel a twinge, knowing that he would never feel that kind of emotion. It wasn’t like he had never asked May not to embarrass him, but it was more like he had never truly _meant_ it. There was no true fear, anger, or frustration. Maybe it was because he knew May wasn’t obligated to take care of him, or… you know, something else along those lines. He hated being hypocritical. He had already decided that they were different, and that was that.

Peter just didn’t really like _feeling_ different.

May couldn’t come this year; another shift at the hospital had needed her, and she sped off to save lives in a way that Spider-Man couldn’t. She had looked so guilty then that Peter couldn’t muster even a single bit of frustration, but now that he was walking to school, that frustration hit him full force. Parents were around him everywhere, mussing their children’s hair and chuckling at their exasperation. 

He swallowed, pretending not to mind. No Ned accompanied him to homeroom today; he was probably off helping his parents prepare for their little speech. 

Peter sat down in his seat, shuffling through his bag until he found his phone. His screensaver: a selfie of him and May on the couch greeted him. (His screensaver _was_ a picture of him and Mr. Stark at ComicCon for all of three days… before Flash called BS on the picture, saying that it was photoshop. Nobody would believe Peter if he denied it, so he didn’t, and in his mortification, he changed his lock screen.)

He scrolled through science articles and what was dubbed “Nerd News” by Ned, including but not limited to Star Wars updates, Iron Man articles and appreciation posts, and more…Iron Man appreciation posts. Numbly, he registered that Sally Avril’s mother was giving her “being a photographer” speech for the fifth year in a row. Fifteen articles later, Ned’s father was talking about being a reporter and Peter zoned out again, having already heard Ned’s dad practice his speech approximately seventeen times beforehand. He didn’t know how much time passed before he tuned in again.

“Thank you, Mr. O’Reilley.” Mr. Harrington smiled and nodded at Seymour, who stood proudly next to his father. “If any of you kids want to work at Oscorp like Seymour’s dad does, I suggest you ask him questions after class.”

Several kids scribbled down his name on a sticky note. Seymour beamed, and Flash Thompson smirked at him, as if to say, “Of course your dad’s cool; you’re _my_ friend.”

“Now, who’s next?” Mr. Harrington clicked his pen on his attendance list. “Hm… Parker? Peter Parker? Your aunt… May Parker, is a nurse, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, yeah, yeah, she is. But she isn’t, she couldn’t, um,” Peter muttered. 

“What was that? Speak up a bit, please, Peter.”

“She couldn’t make it.” Peter answered, suddenly feeling small. His eyes (unconsciously, he swears) fell to his desk. He heard a snort to his left, immediately recognizing it as Flash. 

 Without meaning to, his spider-hearing zoned in to Flash whispering to Seymour from across the room. Flash’s voice shook, brimming with snickers, as he leaned over to his friend’s ear and softly spoke, enunciating each syllable.

_“Orphan.”_

Peter’s face flushed. 

“Hey Parker!” Flash called out obnoxiously. “If your aunt couldn’t make it, why couldn’t you just call your precious Mr. Stark?”

Seymour stifled a giggle beside him, as Flash pretended to have an “aha!” moment.

“Oh yeah, because you’re a liar, who makes up crazy stories to make your life seem less sad than it is because you can’t deal with stuff normally, like a normal person!” He said, and the words seemed to hit Peter a bit harder than they usually would. Heat burned behind his eyes.

“Eugene!” 

“Flash!”

Ned and Mr. Harrington called out from the sidelines, effectively shutting him up. At least Flash had the decency to look guilty. Peter tried to swallow the lump in his throat, imagining Mr. Stark walking through the door and Flash stuttering so hard he nearly suffocated.

But the door stayed motionless.

Mr. Harrington moved on to the next student, which so happened to be Flash. He smiled mockingly at Peter as he walked up beside his father, who was too glued to his phone to notice much of anything.

Almost like an unconscious reaction, while Peter’s mortified, despair-filled mind focused on other, more traumatic things, his fingers reached for his phone, pulled up Mr. Stark’s contact, and texted him.

 Peter: “can i come to the lab today?”

Around 2 seconds later, he heard a text message alert down the hall from his classroom. Hope filled Peter’s entire being. Familiar footsteps clicked down the weirdly patterned tiles before the owner of said footsteps swung the classroom door open, nearly hitting Flash in the nose. 

Flash looked up, indignant before recognition reached his eyes, and his jaw dropped to the ground.

“Oh, hey. Sorry. Didn’t see you there.” 

“It’s okay…” Flash answered in a daze. “...sir.” He tacked on.

The same flash of recognition went through Mr. Stark’s eyes at the kid’s voice, but much less friendly, and almost infinitely less filled with admiration and respect.

“Hey.” Flash swallowed. “Do you know Penis— Peter Parker?”

“Peter?” His eyes squinted in confusion and Flash threw Peter a look of victory.

“What do you mean, do I know Peter?” Mr. Stark strolled towards Peter. “Why do you think I’m here?” He rested his hand on the back of Peter’s chair.

“Sorry I’m late, kid. Pep’s still on that vacation I gave her a week ago, so I needed to fend off the people at the chair meeting myself.” He muttered, shaking his head. “Vultures, the lot of them.”

“You said that yesterday already,” Peter replied easily, settling down into their usual pattern. “But why’d you leave the meeting?”

“Mm… wasn’t important.”

“It totally was. The amount of times you complain about a meeting is directly proportional to how important it is.” 

“May texted me. About this.” Mr. Stark gestured to the classroom full of parents. “Felt bad ‘cause she couldn’t go. So I’m filling in for her. I get to come to your school, do May a favor, _and_ skip out of work? It’s three birds with one stone, kid. So as far as I’m concerned, it wasn’t that important.”

“Thanks, Mr. Stark.” Peter beamed at him as he rustled Peter’s hair. “I think you gotta go up there and give a speech.”

“Right.”

Tony Stark, clad in a $40,000 suit and classy sunglasses, marched up to the front of the small room, all eyes on him, the way he was used to, for a teenager in Queens, who loved so much it scared him. 

The first words out of his mouth were as follows:

“You know who I am.”

The rest of his speech went in about the same manner. 

Tony Stark was Tony Stark, an anthropomorphized smug smirk, a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, an unshakable force of sarcasm, and, most importantly (to him), just for today, Peter Parker’s parent.  


 

***Bonus***

“Hello, Mr. Stark. I’m Harrison Thompson.” Harrison held out his hand for Tony to take, but Tony ignored it and just nodded, scooting a bit closer to Peter on his seat. “I work at Oscorp. It’s an honor to meet you, seeing as your company is just as good.”

Peter bristled. Tony put a stabilizing hand on his shoulder, and coldly replied: “Thank you.” 

He offered the same hand to Peter, calling him a bright kid, much brighter than his own son—

Flash responded with an offended “Dad—!” before his father shot him a glare, and Flash flinched so hard he almost fell over.

Tony wasn’t an idiot. (He’d had Howard for a father, after all.)

A few weeks later, an anonymous allegation came against a certain Harrison Thompson, accusing him of child abuse, as well as sexually assaulting his coworkers. It was backed up by dozens of eyewitness accounts, testimonies, and high-quality camera footage. He was sentenced to 7-8 years in prison, and soon after, Flash stopped annoying Peter altogether.

 

***Short Bonuses***

  * Upon seeing Tony Stark show up for Peter Parker a second time, the assistant at the front desk smiled to herself (she had access to everyone’s records, after all; she knew about Peter’s family situation.) and pinned a flyer for the science fair on the wall...signed by Tony Stark.



 

  * Mr. Harrison got both a signature and a guarantee for a field trip to Stark Tower.



  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *implied*  
> "....it wasn't that important."

**Author's Note:**

> "I probably just gave him too much intern work; forgot he was a highschooler."


End file.
